Failure
by TudorQueens
Summary: Set after the birth of Elizabeth. Henry's musings on his relationship with Anne after she announces her second pregnancy.


"What will we name him?"

The sudden question pulled Henry from his thoughts and the food resting before him. It was the first time they had dined together in weeks, and a mere five days ago, Anne had told him she was once again with child. He glanced up and looked at his wife. Her exotic raven hair ran down her back in thick waves and dark eyes were lighter and happier than he could remember seeing in a long time. She wore a deep red dress from her youth, claiming that soon she would no longer be able to fit into it, and it perfectly highlighted and extenuated every curve in her body. He couldn't remember the last time she looked so beautiful.

"I thought Edward, possibly, as I know you like that name, but Henry the Ninth does have a nice ring to it."

She spoke again, and he couldn't help but remember a time when they had had a similar conversation, before the birth of Elizabeth. Then they had been so sure that Anne was carrying a son. The heir that England so desperately needed.

He could still remember the disappointment he felt when Anne had presented him another daughter instead of the son she had promised so early in their courtship. Of course, just as he had with Mary, Henry grew to love Elizabeth over time, she was the jewel of his world. Even at such a young age his daughter already showed great intelligence and potential. If only she had been born a boy.

But no, Anne was pregnant again, and this time, this time God would give him a son. After all, her pregnancy with Elizabeth had been a relatively easy one, there were no signs to say she wouldn't carry many more healthy children.

Henry smiled and reached across the table to cup his wife's hand. "Both are fine names sweetheart, I'm sure that either would suit our son perfectly." He brought her delicate fingers to his lips and peppered them with tiny soft kisses as he had often done many years ago.

"Our son…" She murmured happily. Henry watched as her eyes shone with love, and now that she was keeping her promise, he couldn't help but remember why he had fallen in love with her as well. "Henry, you have truly made me the most happy."

Henry pushed a delicate curl away from his wife's face. "That's right my love, as you have made me, for what is a King, without his Queen?" Her dark orbs suddenly sparkled with mischief and the corner of her mouth tilted precariously to one side. Raising an arm, Anne pulled him closer until he could smell her lavender scent and touch her soft skin. "Nothing." Came her breathy whisper.

For a moment, his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw went tense, to claim a King, nothing. But before he could respond she caught a fistful of his growing hair and yanked him towards her in a quick jerky motion. Teeth against teeth, arms grabbing and tongues fighting for dominance. It was an angry and passionate display, yet one that was known to occur frequently between the two royals. Henry leaned into her, his body looming over his wife's feminine figure even as they sat.

He flinched as her nails scratched his skin and she ripped herself away from him. Foreheads pressed together, their quick rapid breaths warmed the still air between them and their arms clung heavily on each other. He opened his eyes and glanced up to catch Anne already watching him. Those dark eyes, the ones that had hooked his attention from the day he met her and never let go. Bringing a hand down he caressed her soft soft skin.

"You're so beautiful." He murmured while still running his fingers against her jaw and down to her neck, her creamy delicate neck. Anger and desire repossessed his body like a flame burning up and he felt his grip tighten around her throat. Her pretty head jerked upwards and for a moment, she did nothing.

They watched one another, teetering dangerously between reality and something that was only known to them. The sound of a slap resonated through the air as her hand collided against his now reddened cheek. To any outsider it would have seemed as if the Queen had over stepped her bounds, as if she was done for. But the King grinned wildly and smashed his lips against hers once more, the mad battle for dominance beginning only more intensely than the last.

She would be the end of him, he knew it. His pretty wife. As he would be the end of her. They were the two most powerful people in the land, husband and wife, King and Queen. No man, woman, or living creature was above them, he raised her over all others. Anne, the one he had once trusted with his life, yet the one a part of him would always seek to destroy. She could not fail him again.

And she wouldn't, God had punished him enough, he knew that. Yet as he kissed her, he couldn't shake the feeling that something about her lips tasted like failure.


End file.
